"But indeed I did not wish you a pleasant walk;
I never thought of such a thing; but I begged Mr. Thorpe
so
earnestly to stop; I called out to him as soon as ever I
saw you; now, Mrs. Allen, did not-- Oh! You were not there;
but indeed I did; and, if Mr. Thorpe would only have stopped,
I would have jumped out and run after you."
Is there a Henry in the world who could be insensible
to such a
declaration? Henry Tilney at least was not.
With a yet sweeter smile, he said everything that need
be said of his sister's concern, regret, and dependence
on Catherine's honour. "Oh! Do not say Miss Tilney was
not angry," cried Catherine, "because I know she was;
for she would not see me this morning when I called;
I saw her walk out of the house the next minute after
my leaving it; I was hurt, but I was not affronted.
Perhaps you did not know I had been there."
"I was not within at the time; but I heard of it
from Eleanor, and she has been wishing ever since to
see you, to explain the reason of such incivility;
but perhaps I can do it as well. It was nothing more than
that my father--they were just preparing to walk out,
and he being
hurried for time, and not caring to have it
put off--made a point of her being denied. That was all,
I do assure you. She was very much vexed, and meant
to make her
apology as soon as possible."
Catherine's mind was greatly eased by this information,
yet a something of solicitude remained, from which sprang
the following question,
thoroughly artless in itself,
though rather distressing to the gentleman: "But, Mr. Tilney,
why were you less
generous than your sister? If she felt
such confidence in my good intentions, and could suppose
it to be only a mistake, why should you be so ready
to take offence?"
"Me! I take offence!"
"Nay, I am sure by your look, when you came into
the box, you were angry."
"I angry! I could have no right."
"Well, nobody would have thought you had no right
who saw your face." He replied by asking her to make
room for him, and talking of the play.
He remained with them some time, and was only too
agreeable for Catherine to be
contented when he went away.
Before they parted, however, it was agreed that the projected
walk should be taken as soon as possible; and,
setting aside
the
misery of his quitting their box, she was, upon the whole,
left one of the happiest creatures in the world.
While talking to each other, she had observed with
some surprise that John Thorpe, who was never in the same
part of the house for ten minutes together, was engaged
in conversation with General Tilney; and she felt something
more than surprise when she thought she could perceive
herself the object of their attention and discourse.
What could they have to say of her? She feared General
Tilney did not like her appearance: she found it was
implied in his preventing her admittance to his daughter,
rather than
postpone his own walk a few minutes. "How came
Mr. Thorpe to know your father?" was her
anxiousinquiry,
as she
pointed them out to her
companion. He knew nothing
about it; but his father, like every military man,
had a very large acquaintance.
When the
entertainment was over, Thorpe came to assist
them in getting out. Catherine was the immediate object
of his gallantry; and, while they waited in the lobby
for a chair, he prevented the
inquiry which had travelled
from her heart almost to the tip of her tongue, by asking,
in a consequential manner, whether she had seen him
talking with General Tilney: "He is a fine old fellow,
upon my soul! Stout, active--looks as young as his son.
I have a great regard for him, I assure you: a gentleman-like,
good sort of fellow as ever lived."
"But how came you to know him?"
"Know him! There are few people much about town that I
do not know. I have met him forever at the Bedford;
and I knew his face again today the moment he came into
the billiard-room. One of the best players we have,
by the by; and we had a little touch together, though I
was almost afraid of him at first: the odds were five
to four against me; and, if I had not made one of the
cleanest strokes that perhaps ever was made in this
world--I took his ball exactly--but I could not make you
understand it without a table; however, I did beat him.
A very fine fellow; as rich as a Jew. I should like
to dine with him; I dare say he gives famous dinners.
But what do you think we have been talking of? You.
Yes, by heavens! And the general thinks you the finest
girl in Bath."
"Oh! Nonsense! How can you say so?"
"And what do you think I said?"--lowering his
voice--"well done, general, said I; I am quite of your mind."
Here Catherine, who was much less gratified by his
admiration than by General Tilney's, was not sorry to be
called away by Mr. Allen. Thorpe, however, would see her to
her chair, and, till she entered it, continued the same kind
of
delicateflattery, in spite of her entreating him to have done.
That General Tilney, instead of disliking,
should admire her, was very
delightful; and she joyfully
thought that there was not one of the family whom she need
now fear to meet. The evening had done more, much more,
for her than could have been expected.
CHAPTER 13
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday
have now passed in
review before the reader; the events of
each day, its hopes and fears, mortifications and pleasures,
have been
separately stated, and the pangs of Sunday
only now remain to be described, and close the week.
The Clifton
scheme had been deferred, not relinquished,
and on the afternoon's
crescent of this day, it was
brought forward again. In a private
consultation between
Isabella and James, the former of whom had particularly
set her heart upon going, and the latter no less
anxiously
placed his upon
pleasing her, it was agreed that,
provided the weather were fair, the party should take
place on the following morning; and they were to set
off very early, in order to be at home in good time.
The affair thus determined, and Thorpe's approbation secured,
Catherine only remained to be apprised of it. She had
left them for a few minutes to speak to Miss Tilney.
In that
interval the plan was completed, and as soon as she
came again, her
agreement was demanded; but instead of the gay
acquiescence expected by Isabella, Catherine looked grave,
was very sorry, but could not go. The
engagement which
ought to have kept her from joining in the former attempt
would make it impossible for her to accompany them now.
She had that moment settled with Miss Tilney to take
their proposed walk tomorrow; it was quite determined,
and she would not, upon any
account, retract. But that
she must and should retract was
instantly the eager cry
of both the Thorpes; they must go to Clifton tomorrow,
they would not go without her, it would be nothing
to put off a mere walk for one day longer, and they
would not hear of a
refusal. Catherine was distressed,
but not subdued. "Do not urge me, Isabella. I am engaged
to Miss Tilney. I cannot go." This availed nothing.
The same arguments assailed her again; she must go,
she should go, and they would not hear of a
refusal.
"It would be so easy to tell Miss Tilney that you had just
been reminded of a prior
engagement, and must only beg to
put off the walk till Tuesday."
"No, it would not be easy. I could not do it.
There has been no prior
engagement." But Isabella became
only more and more
urgent,
calling on her in the most
affectionate manner, addressing her by the most endearing names.
She was sure her dearest, sweetest Catherine would not
seriously refuse such a
trifling request to a friend
who loved her so
dearly. She knew her
beloved Catherine
to have so feeling a heart, so sweet a
temper, to be so
easily persuaded by those she loved. But all in vain;
Catherine felt herself to be in the right, and though
pained by such tender, such
flattering supplication,
could not allow it to influence her. Isabella then
tried another method. She
reproached her with having
more
affection for Miss Tilney, though she had known her
so little a while, than for her best and oldest friends,
with being grown cold and
indifferent, in short,
towards herself. "I cannot help being
jealous, Catherine,
when I see myself slighted for strangers, I, who love
you so excessively! When once my
affections are placed,
it is not in the power of anything to change them.
But I believe my feelings are stronger than anybody's;
I am sure they are too strong for my own peace; and to see
myself supplanted in your friendship by strangers does cut
me to the quick, I own. These Tilneys seem to
swallow up
everything else."
Catherine thought this
reproachequally strange
and
unkind. Was it the part of a friend thus to
expose her
feelings to the notice of others? Isabella appeared to her
un
generous and
selfish,
regardless of everything but her
own
gratification. These
painful ideas crossed her mind,
though she said nothing. Isabella, in the meanwhile,
had
applied her
handkerchief to her eyes; and Morland,
miserable at such a sight, could not help saying,
"Nay, Catherine. I think you cannot stand out any longer now.
The sacrifice is not much; and to
oblige such a friend--I
shall think you quite
unkind, if you still refuse."
This was the first time of her brother's openly
siding against her, and
anxious to avoid his displeasure,
she proposed a
compromise. If they would only put off
their
scheme till Tuesday, which they might easily do,
as it depended only on themselves, she could go with them,
and everybody might then be satisfied. But "No, no,
no!" was the immediate answer; "that could not be,
for Thorpe did not know that he might not go to town
on Tuesday." Catherine was sorry, but could do no more;
and a short silence ensued, which was broken by Isabella,
who in a voice of cold
resentment said, "Very well,
then there is an end of the party. If Catherine
does not go, I cannot. I cannot be the only woman.
I would not, upon any
account in the world, do so improper
a thing."
"Catherine, you must go," said James.
"But why cannot Mr. Thorpe drive one of his other
sisters? I dare say either of them would like to go."
"Thank ye," cried Thorpe, "but I did not come to Bath
to drive my sisters about, and look like a fool. No, if you
do not go, d-- me if I do. I only go for the sake of driving you."
"That is a
compliment which gives me no pleasure."
But her words were lost on Thorpe, who had turned
abruptly away.
The three others still continued together,
walking in a most
uncomfortable manner to poor Catherine;
sometimes not a word was said, sometimes she was again attacked